


Day 0

by modernjesusforever



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Achievement Hunter Heists, F/M, Heist AU, M/M, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-05 00:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1799158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/modernjesusforever/pseuds/modernjesusforever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heists are easier when you're dead.</p><p>After a botched heist, the crew finds themselves a bit more than dead. The six are stuck in some fucked up version of purgatory, forced by some God to relive new heists until they've successfully completed one, under strict rulings. </p><p>Unfortunately for the boys, it's near impossible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Michael Jones, I swear you better come back tonight,” Lindsay muttered, ironing her husband’s coat with a look of remorse for the action painting her face. A dark mask sat on the kitchen table, its void expression catching her eye.

It was something she had grown to know too well. It held significance in their relationship; it was almost as if those empty eyes mattered more than the upcoming marriage. The two had come to care for it like a child: wiping it when it got dirty and reserving it a special spot on the bedroom shelf.

Lindsay’s hands shook as she turned the iron off and returned the board to its proper place. Her ears perked at the sound of Michael fumbling around in their kitchen. Metal against the kitchen counter caused pain to fill her stomach to the brim. But the noise soon subsided and a silence, once again, fell over the house.

“Michael?” She sounded small, squeaky. Could he tell she was worried? Worried about the outcome of tonight? He had to of guessed. Her voice came from the top of her throat, squeezing its way out and into the air. It was like she was a child again, standing in front of an angry parent, bracing herself for the impact of his booming voice on her eardrums.

“Yeah, Linds?” He replied. His emotions were hidden behind a whisper. “What is it?”

Shocked. The pang of sadness in his voice nearly brought the brunette to tears.  

“I...I just wanted to make sure you didn’t forget your jacket,” Lindsay lied, entering the kitchen. The awkward silence was filling the empty space between them. All Lindsay wanted to do was divide it up, the space. The more she took away, the closer they’d feel, and the less she’d want to cry.

Three guns lay out on the counter. Michael had them all in a row just like a child with his toy cars. Lindsay’s eyes outlined each with careful precision, to whittle out any room for error. If something was wrong with one of Michael’s guns she'd would be the first to tell him.

But it was unlike Michael to not know.

A lifestyle like this holds a million breathless moments and only a millisecond of rest. Ryan’s kind (and that word was to be used lightly) statement was what made her uneasiness enter the area of frightened. The moments after the words left the man’s mouth always brought on forced laughter, but it was just enough to lull over the uneasiness that usually leaked through the walls.

“Why would I forget my jacket?” Michael shot back, inspecting his hand gun with professional prowess.

“I don’t know,” She sighed, laying it on the countertop. Nearby sat a picture of the couple’s most recent outing.

The photo was a bit hazed but Lindsay thought it was sweet enough to have the honor of sitting out with the rest of their family portraits. Arms wrapped around torsos, faces full of youth. Though not everyone in their tightly-knit group of friends could be exactly described as young, (no offense to the gents) their giddy dispositions took ten years off their faces. Teenagers in love. That's what it looked like to her.

Gavin and Ray stood near the front, faces scrunched with laughter and glasses at hand. Jack and Ryan were standing near the right with their wives, a woman bundled tightly in Ryan’s arms, chin nestled in the crook of her neck. Jack and Caiti looked blissful in each others arms. Same went for Geoff and Griffon. Lindsay couldn’t help but smile when she gazed over at Michael’s face. A happiness that had soon lost it’s glow now.

His smile didn’t look like someone who had killed a man before.

How lame did that sound? She thought to herself, nudging the frame with her index finger.

“You gunna tell me why you look ready to chuck up your fucking guts?” He hissed, pulling her out of the unfortunate haze the picture had caused.

“I’m just worried about this one Michael, that’s all.” The response was as snappy as the question. Michael didn’t take his eyes from the gun but smirked to fuel her growing anger.

“You get like this all the time,” He choked, a laugh slipping through his lips. “How long have we been doing this Lindsay? Do you really think we’re going to fuck up now? Honestly, tell me.”

“Well no, but that doesn’t mean I can’t worry.” Lindsay bit back the true intensity of her anger. Her ribcage was slowly collapsing in on itself, the mountains in her brain eroded by his words. It was a stupid metaphor, a girl her age should have come up with something a bit better, but that’s exactly what it felt like.

“Hey, get that dumb look off your face. It’s not cute.”

“Not until you promise me you’ll come back.”

Soon it became uncomfortable to breathe. At home Michael could keep that side of him under wraps for the most part. But sometimes it peaked over the ledges of his sentences and made for distasteful moments.

Like now.

“Quit fucking talking like that,” He yelled, slamming the gun down. Pointing a shaky finger in her face, his eyes shone fire. “I hate it when you do that.”

“Fine, go ahead. Go out there. Kill however many guys you think you need to. Just know I don’t agree with it by any means Michael Jones. I don’t want to live off this blood money for much longer. It’s the heists or me.”

The vexation poured in from the walls and crashed against the counters and tables and bodies. Michael still had his finger pointed at her, the rage drowning the two, crushing their bodies beneath the waves.

“Give me an answer tomorrow morning...if you come home this time.” Her entire body spun and her feet carried her all the way to the bedroom. Behind her she could hear Michael’s pent up frustration let loose on the countertop. It didn’t matter though. Not much of anything mattered to her at this point.

All she cared about was that he’d be there in the morning to tell her his answer.

And hopefully he'd agree to quitting.

Cold turkey.

-

Michael held his head in his hands as his entire body shook. Doughy ripples of anger were now coming and going but they would stick for the rest of the night. Not even the loudest explosion would stop Lindsay’s words from echoing in his head.

It was embarrassing that Michael Jones was actually considering giving up the money for a girl. This was the thing he loved most. It was his job, his calling.

It was his life.

But Lindsay Tuggey was the one thing he swore by. Her bright eyes were what supposedly kept him going. But were the words he muttered before he pulled the mask over his eyes and the gun from his pocket attached to her name or were they merely the money talking? Had his love turned into a facade for his bloodlust? Was Lindsay just there so he could tell himself he wasn’t in it for the money?

Of course not. He wanted to share the wealth with the ones he loved, her included.

What had started the entire thing? He wasn’t entirely sure where it had begun. It had been a joke, a fucking joke, at a time. A joke that had turned into a horrible fucking mistake.

Geoff suggested it.

Or at least that's who Michael wanted to blame. They were all at fault, even himself, for getting attached to the idea. In getting others involved. But Michael Jones wouldn’t admit to lighting the match.

But you are to blame for getting Lindsay involved.

They were all sitting around, a bit too drunk for their own good, though Michael had been surprisingly sober for it being 11 P.M.

Maybe that’s why he could remember the scene as if it were playing out before him. The entire crew was there, throwing their heads back with laughter. At the time they all looked so tired from work, faces battered and worn. Fridays were just about the only nights they could be together anymore. Gavin swore their bosses hated them just enough to devise intertwining schedules, making it impossible for them to ever hang out.

The tv created a sudden rumble beneath the loud men, earthquakes of police sirens interrupting their debate over the newest games.

“A high speed chase is taking place right here in Austin, two masked men being pursuited onto the freeway by three of the county police. The two were said to have robbed a local corner store, killing the cashier quickly after entering the 7-11…”

“Isn’t that a shame…” Ryan muttered. Swigs of beer were taken almost in unison for the fallen cashier, the exception being Ray, who just stared with tired eyes at the flashing screen. Helicopters followed the cars until the screen cut to black and a loud commercial advertising the late night talk shows broke their stupor.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if that was us?” Geoff’s voice cracked as he said it. The dark haired man let out a cackle to signify his words were just a joke to add to conversation. Their fate was decided the moment the words slipped, groggily, from Geoff's lips. Even if there were only mere jest, a voice in their brains agreed it was the best idea ever muttered between them.

“We could quit our shitty jobs,” Gavin added, tipping his beer toward Geoff.

"Maybe this month I could actually afford rent," Ryan whistled, tipping the last of his beer over onto the table.

"I got it Ryan," Michael obliged. He walked into the kitchen, keeping a close eye on the group. They were whispering to themselves. The group of men were suddenly reduced to giggly teenage girls. Except you’d replace the banter over boy bands and who-slept-with-who’s with elaborate heist plans and discussion about the best gun shops in town.

"Imagine it boys, all the money in the world. And you'd just have to kill a few buggers to get it!" Gavin exclaimed between hiccups.

"Gavin, shut the fuck up, you're drunk." Michael could tell by Ray's irritation that he was by no means in the mood to make up silly scenarios.

Out of everyone there, Ray had it the hardest. Michael couldn't complain when it came to fixing some old bat's pipes for a couple of hours. Ray on the other hand, had to deal with endless lists of side jobs and unknown wages. He never wanted to be a burden, but Michael could recall the countless times Ray had crashed on his couch.

"He's on to something Ray," Geoff chuckled, wrapping his tattooed arms around Gavin's neck. The two began to wrestle.

Michael could only watch as the rest of the scene pan out before him. It still caused his stomach to do loops when he thought of how crazy it actually sounded.

And how crazy it was that they'd gotten away with it so easily.

"It'd be simple, bud!" Geoff said, releasing the squawking boy from his grip. "A couple of cars, a boat, some guns. Just hit up a little liquor store, or some gas station, and we'd get off scott free. Divvy out the money evenly and there we have it. All of us get back in bed just before sunrise, with a little extra in our pockets."

"Wouldn't that be nice?" Jack pipped in, eyes still glued to the tv screen.

"More alcohol? Huh, I'm in." Ray rolled his eyes.

"In a bit of a piss mood tonight, Ray?"

"You guys sound like the assholes at my work."

"Which one?" Gavin shot back. The snide remark immediately caused their cheery moods to fade.

“But...he’s right. It’s not a bad idea.”

That's when it started. A simple "it's not a bad idea" turned into nights of endless planning.

The first heist was a mess. Michael laughed at the thought of them all standing around in hockey masks, holding some stupid, beat up guns Ray had borrowed from a friend. It was almost surprising to think they completed it, though. It was more surprising to think Gavin actually survived, three cops in hot pursuit of his car, and nobody else's.

Michael sighed. Tonight felt a whole lot different than before, but it didn't stop him from picking up his jacket and walking out the door, guns hidden within the contents of his bag.

Before entering his car, he looked back at the apartment complex, nodding.


	2. Half Empty, Half Full

“Shit...Gav, can you hear me?” Geoff choked, clenching his jaw in a poor attempt to keep more blood from spilling onto his chest. From the other end of the bluetooth subdued police sirens were the only sounds to be heard. Geoff’s heart began to sink at the thought of what he’d just witnessed. The things he’d heard, all of which he hadn’t seen, were displayed vividly in his mind.

The night had started off so peacefully.

Gavin and Michael weren’t being the fucking idiots they usually were before the heists. Jack and Ryan were able to steal vehicles without problems, and Ray even proved himself with the brand new handguns he’d borrowed from a friend.

Unfortunately for that friend, he wouldn’t be getting them back anytime soon.

Geoff wanted to sit this one out, see how they’d all do when given orders instead of mucking around like a bunch of children. It would have been the first time the heists had been carried out by each individual, and all their efforts were based on themselves instead of a group. No more babying each other. One person would do the killing, the others would man the getaways, and so on. Instead of all of them crowding inside a small convenience store, Michael would be the only one inside.

Maybe it wasn’t peacefulness Geoff had been feeling earlier that night.

It was nervousness. Nervousness that turned into hideous demise. Throughout the entire night Geoff felt it shifting inside him. What he had thought to be one of the best ideas he’d ever had, turned out to be the worst thing to ever happen to all of them.

“You really trust us with such a big job, Geoff?” Michael faltered. Geoff appreciated the hesitation. That meant at least one of them thought he was essential to the group.

“I think you can at least make it into the store without getting your head blown off,” Geoff laughed, placing the new gun into Michael’s palm. Geoff watched as the boy ran his finger over the trigger, his movements showing question.

The two stood in silence, the room encasing them in an aura of discomfort. From the other side of the door Gavin could be heard squawking something to Ryan in a horrible American accent.

“I don’t...Geoff, Lindsay wants me to stop,” Michael stammered. He began looking abstract, standing there, gun in hand and not wanting to use it. Geoff scoffed just to fill the dense air with some kind of heat. Michael was growing bleak before his eyes.

“Funny shit Michael, now let’s get going, I want to get out there by ten.” It was his first instinct to brush off what Michael had said.

“No, Geoff, seriously. Lindsay doesn't want me doing this anymore,” Michael said, letting an anxious laugh escape from his lips. “And I think I might want to stop, too.”

A wave of panic suddenly rushed over Geoff. Not because there was a possibility of Michael leaving, no, that wasn't it. It was the fact that all the work and effort put forth into their little project seemed to be wasted.

“We’ll...we’ll talk about this after,” Geoff seethed, wanting to walk more than just out of the room. He wanted to walk right into a body of water and drown himself in it.

Geoff made sure he was out of the room before Michael even had the chance to reply.

No matter how cheesy it sounded, that was the last time he’d seen Michael. As his heavy body dragged itself down each alleyway, dodging any beam of light that dared to leak onto the ground in front of him, he wished to see Michael one more time. Just so he could apologize. Geoff laughed at the thought of himself getting on hand and knee to express his remorse.

“W-Why...Why tonight?” Michael’s last words weren't full of anger, no, Geoff heard the regret pooling within them.

He decided to take a break, just for a while. The only sirens heard were the ones in his ear, almost masked by the obscene comments coming from disembodied voices. He ripped the piece out in anger after hearing a husky voice comment on Ray’s ethnicity. Geoff wanted nothing more than to punch a hole in one of their skulls.

“Stupid...Geoff Ramsey you are a stupid little man,” he groaned, keeping an eye on each end of the pathway. The pocket that once held his gun was empty now yet he foolishly went to grasp it. All he could do now was try his hardest to block out the unwanted memories.

But they weren’t leaving anytime soon.

“Ray, take him out. Ray,  _fucking take him out_ ,” Gavin’s voice trembled.

“Gavin there is no way in hell I can hit this guy through that window.” Ray’s response was calmer than expected. Watching from the adjacent rooftop, Geoff’s eyes were locked on the Brit’s movements. He was collapsed into a ball, right where the sidewalk and alleyway met, eyes shielded by shaking hands.

“Then someone fucking go over there and get his fucking body!”

There was no reply.

“Gavin you need to calm down. Jack and I are going to drive the car to where you all are. Geoff and Ray should start getting off those roofs. If what you said is true, we can’t get Michael’s body,” Ryan stopped. Geoff suspected he was picking each word with caution, fearing that one wrong move could set off a grenade. “The EMS will show up soon, along with more cops. If you go over there, then you’re bound to have a bullet in your head too.”

“Alright.”

Nobody figured there would be an undercover cop within the walls of the 7/11. And nobody would have guessed that the moment Michael lowered his gun the left side of his head would be plastered to the assortment of candy bars and newspapers that surrounded the clerk’s counter.

Geoff realized he had made eye contact with Ray in that moment, and neither of them had anything else to say except _“shit”_.

While waiting for Jack and Ryan, barely any words were exchanged. The three of them stood a few feet apart, all watching as more and more people began to surround the scene. Ray would make a comment about how half of the crowd were prostitutes, and how they’d be the next to get arrested, but none of them laughed. Even Ray looked as if he didn’t find humor in his joke.

The car never came.

They’d wait twenty minutes before hearing screeching tires preceded by Jack cursing under his breath. Geoff almost got the nerve to ask what was wrong, but the question was answered before it could be asked.

Two gunshots, just two.

His breaths were starting to come in small outbursts, and all attempts to steady it were lost to the wind. Putting one foot in front of the other, Geoff did everything his depleting consciousness could do to keep himself upright. Sirens could be heard from just a few streets over, accompanied by the energetic barking of police dogs.  

At a time like this a drink was a fine idea.

But the abrupt swirling lights reflected in the puddles of the path in front of him shoved that thought to the back of his mind. A group of men stood at the end, watching him, bodies nearly shoved together. In one final attempt to catch anyone’s attention, he whispered a soft “Gavin?” into the space in front of him.

Only static could be heard from the earpiece now.

“C’mon you guys, this isn’t funny...Ray? Gavin?” Geoff’s voice cracked as he listed off all their names.

Michael’s couldn’t come out of his mouth.

He was miles away from the store by now and an hour must have passed, but the gunshot to his stomach only grew in pain. At one point he convinced himself that the pain was fading, but with each passing minute the wound grew in intensity, and he screamed in agony.

He screamed with complete frustration.

“Geoff?” A voice called.

“Burnie?” His reply was hushed, unsure.

A stocky figure came into view, just enough to block the flashing red and blue lights. He was the only one who had come to greet Geoff. The others stayed in their spots, guns ready to fire if he decided to try any funny business.

Lucky for them he could _barely fucking move_.

“Burnie,” Geoff hissed through his pain. “I thought you said there wouldn’t be a lot of guys out tonight.”

“Geoff I...I don’t know what to tell ya,” The cop said, as he descended to Geoff’s level. His eyes were emotionless, dead. Another wave of panic set over Geoff as he tried to pick himself up off the ground, only to be shoved back down by a strong hand. “I had to do this.”

“You told me you’d keep us safe. That was the deal. We did the robbing, you got some of the cash in return. Nobody was supposed to get hurt.”

Anger swelled up from his stomach and vomited out through his words, but the man staring at him held no sympathy. The man he could once call his friend was now on the other side of the fence.

“Look, if I got caught, they’d fire my ass. I’m the chief of police, Geoff. I can’t keep this up. My guys are starting to ask questions. It’s going to look really fucking suspicious when they start realizing that I’m sending men out to tim-buck-two so you can make your getaways,” Burnie barked.

“You’re a piece of shit.”

“I’m only doing what’s right.”

Moments later, Burnie was back on his feet, stretching. He did a small wave to one of the men, and they all began to file into their cars and drive off. In seconds the entire police force was gone except for one.

“You’re…letting me go?”

“No Geoff...I can’t let you go.”

“Then why did you…” Finishing the sentence was no longer possible. All the questions and angry words he wanted to share were now gone from his mind. He was now looking down the barrel of a gun.

“I’ll make sure to say hi to the wife,” Burnie whispered as he lined up his shot. The sound of the gun seemed delayed, as if it almost didn’t want to go off.

But it did.

 **  
**Never in his life had he seen a world so black.

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the Achievement Hunter Heists. Sorry the first chapter is so slow, I just wanted to lay everything out before the entire plot goes down. 
> 
> Uh. Yeah.


End file.
